Queen Persephone

She has long red hair to her waist and she lives in a yellow house with the paint peeling off like the sunburn on her shoulders. Her hair is creased from a recent braid, undone, and it lies beside her on the grass so that her back is exposed to the afternoon sun.

Embrace The Monstrous: An Interview With Nino Cipri

CICADA: Both Jeremy and Merion gravitate towards all things fanged, tentacled, and undead. What kind of comfort/empowerment/affirmation can be found in embracing the monstrous?

A Lesson In Contrast

On a trip to the drugstore, a young girl’s eyes scan the shelves like a world war 2 sniper.

Worlds as Bridges an interview with Debbie Urbanski

CIC: In “The Thread,” the concept of soul mates is taken to a pretty chilling extreme. Why do you think this concept can be so damaging? What kind of power can be found in not “living the life everyone expects you to live”? DU: I think any concept that is applied equally to everyone is probably damaging. Because that assumes we’re all alike and that we all want the same thing. If you don’t want that thing, then you have to pretend to want it to be considered normal. Nowadays, thank goodness, we’ve become a lot more accepting of many of our differences. Yet with love and romance, we still seem to apply this one storyline to everybody’s life: you meet someone, you kiss etc., you fall in love, and you live happily ever after with them. How many times do we hear that story, in songs, movies, fairy tales, books, by the time we grow up? Not everybody wants that particular story, but it’s really hard to exist outside of a narrative that’s everywhere. It’s hard to feel normal and good if you’re not part of the story. On the other hand, it’s hard to pretend to be someone you’re not. It takes up so much energy. And it only gets harder the longer you do it. I don’t think it’s sustainable.

Dreaming

Clockwork hearts don’t dream, they inform me with bony smiles, their soft fingers patting my head, pinching sharp nails on my scalp, searching to tear something, some exposed wire or weakness.

Love Letter

I wish I could spill my pain into a bottle, funnel it through him.

Choosing Tenderness: An Interview With Topaz Winters

Topaz Winters writes & heals. She is in love with most quiet things & resides at topazwinters.com.

Cherry Blossoms

We are holding hands in the barrel of a gun. I am searching the briar patch for something other than apology, and she hands me cherry blossoms in the shape of defiance.

What Genre of Story Are You Living In?

Good morning, sunshine! It’s a regular day in the life, except you’re unexpectedly at the center of like five love triangles and/or your mom is screaming that you need to find a spouse who’s rich enough to support your ten younger sisters and/or the fate of the human race is suddenly resting on your shoulders. Clearly, you’ve entered a fictional world through some blend of magic, mystery, and staying up way too late last night reading. The only question is— which world is it?

Telling The Bees

There was a girl who died every morning, and it would not have been a problem except that she kept bees.  

The Gods Of Winter

At nine years old I danced with the gods of winter, studied their faces, stroked their beards, learned to spell their most secret names.

Your New Voice and You

You watch the mermaids swim. Sometimes you think of joining them.

A Sort of Poem By An Asexual

I can’t imagine wanting you to touch me the way lovers discover each other’s bodies at midnight.

River, Carry Me Away

I keep to the rivers, the bog ways and marshes. Thigh-deep is best. I can still walk and trail my hands through the water. Smoke curls off my a ms, but it keeps my hands from flamin .

An Interview With M-E Girard

Renegade wordsmiths, UNITE! Cicada’s recruiting unruly lit pals to share their creative manifestos.

Whose Upward Flight I Love

That fall, a storm hailed down unreasonable screaming winds and fists of pounding rain.

Like The Swan Princess

When I whisper the words come out in a hiss, with a stiff lipcurl that won’t release. Somehow